Another Christmas Present
by Cimz
Summary: It's Christmas 2011. Todd just wants to romance Blair; watch horror movies with Starr; blackmail Jack into spending time with him; and spoil Sam and Hope. But he has a secret or two, and the ghost of Irene won't let him forget it. Blair can do a lot of things, but can she help him face down a ghost? One part. Complete.


Snow started to fall early in the evening, just as Todd was helping Blair put the leftover Chinese food in the refrigerator. (The vegetable dumplings hadn't gotten any better during Todd's time away, but Blair still loved them. It was nice that some things hadn't changed.)

Blair didn't really need the help, but Todd liked being near her. He stood just a little too close when she opened the refrigerator door so she would have to step backwards into him.

Anything to touch her.

It was when Blair turned her head to apologize for brushing against Todd- and the smell of her hair intoxicated him far more than the beer he'd had with the takeout Chinese- that she glanced out the window and noticed the snow.

Her face lit with joy. "We did get snow for Christmas!"

"We could take the kids sledding tomorrow," Todd suggested. Part of him wanted to sneer at the nauseating proposition that snow was somehow the harbinger of a perfect, love-filled holiday rather than a pain in the ass. But most of him wanted anything that got his arms around Blair and their family.

Blair's eyes flickered, and without speaking they shared the memory of a stolen Rodi's tray and a nighttime ride down the hill. "Hope can wear that adorable new jacket Viki bought her." They walked back into the living room. "Kids! Did you see that it's snowing?"

"It is?" Starr squealed. She lifted a half-asleep Hope to the window and the two of them squinted into the darkness.

"We were thinking we could all go sledding tomorrow," Todd said quickly, hoping he could get the kids on board with the idea before Blair had a chance to think of some reason why they shouldn't go.

Starr's eyes caught Todd's in the reflection of the darkened window. "I don't know, Dad. Sometimes sleds can get going awfully _fast_. Sometimes, when something is precious," and she kissed Hope's hair, "You need to _slow down a little_."

"Since when do you consider sledding an extreme sport?" Blair asked Starr, completely oblivious to the girl's real meaning.

Starr shrugged. "I meant, in general," she said guilelessly. "Time for bed, Hope."

Hope was too groggy from a long day of materialism and overindulgence to protest when Starr carried her from the room.

"I'll come kiss you goodnight soon, Hope!" Blair called after them.

"Me too," said Todd.

Jack glanced up for the first time from the intricate superhero playset he was helping Sam assemble. "You might want to get home before the snow gets any worse."

Without a word, Todd walked to the fireplace and prodded a half-burned log with a poker. The flames crackled angrily and doubled in size.

"Or maybe you should stay here tonight," Jack reassessed, his voice sickeningly sweet with a subtle undercurrent of sarcasm. "You're probably out of practice driving in the snow."

"What a thoughtful thing to say," said Todd.

"It really was," Blair echoed. It sounded like her relief at Jack's abrupt attitude adjustment was giving way to suspicion.

"So I can stay?" Todd asked. "You've got, like, twenty bedrooms."

Blair appeared to be considering that.

"If you don't want to let me stay, you don't have to. I wouldn't want to impose on you. Just remind me, are you supposed to steer with the skid or against it? I know you're supposed to hit the brakes- or is that not hit the brakes oh, look who I'm asking- I'll go ask Starr."

Blair rolled her eyes, but a crash interrupted her retort. Sam had fallen asleep into the creation he and Jack had so painstakingly built.

Jack laughed. It was a real, friendly, brotherly laugh that made Todd's heart constrict. "It might be your bedtime, too," Jack told Sam. "We'll finish tomorrow."

"I'm not sleepy," Sam slurred. He groped for his glasses, which had tumbled from his face into what was apparently some sort of pit where the superheroes kept their enemies. Todd clenched his fists at the thought.

"Will you do me a favor and put Sam to bed?" Blair asked Todd.

Todd took that as confirmation that yes, he would be staying the night.

He slipped Sam's glasses into his pocket and then scooped Sam into his arms. Sam felt like he belonged there, warm and solid and completely trusting. He rested his head on Todd's shoulder and closed his eyes, confident that Todd would get him where he needed to go.

Todd could feel Jack's angry glare boring a hole through him as he headed for the stairs. There was more work to be done there. Todd only hoped he had the time.

Starr wouldn't be so convinced that he should take things slow if she knew what was hanging over his head.

Starr might not even be speaking to him if she knew what was hanging over his head.

And Sam...

Todd jumped and tightened his grip on Sam.

There, lying across Sam's bed, was Irene.

"How nice of you to take such good care of the child you orphaned," Irene sneered.

"He has Blair," Todd whispered, so as not to wake Sam. "She's the best mother- She was meant to be Sam's mother, like she was Starr's and Jack's."

"Margaret Cochran was Sam's real mother, just like I was yours."

"Bitsy was my mother, and Blair is Sam's. Get off the damn bed."

Irene vanished. Todd helped Sam with his Spiderman pajamas and tucked him into bed.

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Put my glasses next to the clock," Sam mumbled.

"Right." Todd smiled and did as he was instructed. "You're a great kid, you know that, Sam?"

"I know."

"Never, never forget it."

But Sam didn't respond. His breathing was deep and even.

"Sweet dreams. Always," Todd whispered. He gently closed Sam's door.

He met Starr in the hallway. "Peanut down for the count?" he asked.

Starr nodded. "Are you going now?"

"I can't drive in this weather."

She gave him the same exasperated look she had been giving him since the age of six. "Didn't we talk about going slow?"

Todd ignored her. "How about we watch a movie? Something Christmassy, with lots of blood and guts. Maybe the one where the woman gets killed by a tree?"

"That isn't Christmassy!" Starr objected. "If we're doing this, we're getting _Santa's Slay _from on-demand. See, it turns out that Santa is really a demon who's been cursed to be good for 1000 years, but now time is up and he's getting revenge by-"

Todd put his hands over his ears. "Don't spoil the ending."

* * *

"I'm proud of you, Jack," Blair said when they were alone.

"Whatever," said Jack. Blair stifled a smile. If Jack knew how very much that word reminded her of Todd, he wouldn't be so fond of it.

"I don't know why you've decided to be nicer to your-"

"He's not my father!"

"Nicer to Todd," Blair completed. "I don't know why, but I'm glad you're doing it."

"You still love the guy, don't you," said Jack bluntly.

So many people had said that to Blair in the past few months that she was able to evade Jack's question effortlessly. "This isn't about me. This is about you. You've had a bad enough year with Victor dying and everything that happened with Gigi."

Jack swallowed hard, and relief coursed through Blair. Every time Jack showed a sign of conscience about Gigi, he got closer to the little boy he had been and further from the sociopath she feared she had created.

"You don't need things to be any harder, son. And hating your biological father takes a lot out of you. If you can stop wasting that energy, if you can let yourself feel how much Todd loves you, it will be that much easier to move forward. You used to hate Victor, remember? After he got off death row when you were a little boy, you didn't even want to be in the same room with him. Remember?" she prompted.

"I was a little kid then," Jack muttered.

"Yes, you were. But you were a smart little kid. Sensitive. Intuitive. Somewhere along the line, I wasn't looking and you pushed that down. And I don't think we can get back until you give Todd a chance like you gave Victor a chance."

"Don't think I didn't notice that you didn't answer me when I asked if you loved Todd." Jack had apparently had enough.

"Jack, I only just found out that Tomas-"

"That's not an answer, either."

"I am not in love with Todd," said Blair. The words had a strange afterburn in her mouth. She had said them many times, many ways, to many people, over many years. When she looked back, they had never turned out to be true.

She wanted Jack to be free of his hatred and anger.

She wanted herself to be free of always feeling incomplete when she didn't have Todd. ("_You just have a thing for exciting guys," _Starr had said. "_Now that you know the truth about yourself..."_) She wanted to stop running blindly to every Spencer or Eli or Tomas who could let her pretend that she was over Todd. She wanted to stop feeling like a fool when she saw those men for what they really were. But more than anything, she didn't want to feel the excruciating pain of losing Todd again. Being the fool who married serial killers was preferable to being the empty shell that she was every time Todd pulled the rug out from under her. And it had finally been over, except Victor hadn't been Todd...

"Mom?" asked Jack.

"Jack!" She jerked herself back to reality.

"Starr and I checked the on-demand listings the other day. Want to watch _Santa's Slay?_"

"Good idea."

"Better than watching you daydream about how you _don't_ love Scarface- I mean, Todd," said Jack. He lunged for the remote and soon the movie was up and running.

Blair wasn't surprised when Todd seated himself on the couch next to her. He'd been taking every opportunity to touch her lately, whether he was wrapping himself around her like a blanket after Tomas confessed to Victor's murder or standing too close while they put leftover food in the refrigerator.

She _was_, surprised, though, when Starr unceremoniously squeezed herself into the nonexistent space between her parents.

Blair looked a question at Starr.

"It's a scary movie. I need my mommy and daddy," said Starr innocently, and she cuddled herself against Todd and Blair.

"You have your own child," Todd pointed out.

"She's asleep. She can't protect me," said Starr with perfect logic.

"Whatever," said Jack, and turned the volume up.

On the screen, Santa hit the town pastor over the head with a mallet.

Todd jumped to his feet with a shout and knocked Starr to the floor.

"What was that?" Starr demanded.

"I was worried for Reverend Carpenter!" Todd said. He glanced at Blair. "Doesn't that pastor look like him? Do they all look alike?" Without waiting for an answer, he slid closer to Blair and locked his arms around her. "Go sit next to Jack, Starr. I need your mother to protect me more than you do."

Starr sighed and reached across her parents to pluck Blair's wine glass from an end table. She took a dramatic swallow and then flounced across the room to glare daggers at Todd.

Starr appeared to be actively trying to keep Todd away from Blair. Blair knew that that couldn't be; two days before, Starr had been extracting promises that Blair should fall in love again and hinting that it ought to be with Todd.

To test her theory, Blair laced her fingers through Todd's while keeping a surreptitious eye on Starr. Sure enough, a moment later Starr glanced at their entwined fingers and made a face at Todd. Blair could have sworn that she felt Todd make a "not me" gesture with his other hand. Starr's eyes brightened.

So that was it.

Things were just as they had always been. Starr was scheming to reunite her parents, but this time instead of popping an air mattress or torturing Max, she was coaching her father to take things slow.

Starr was Todd's co-conspirator, and apparently had been for some time.

This was slightly less surprising than the fact that the demonic Santa on the television screen was unmoved by his victim's cries that she had been nice, not naughty.

Anger flashed through Blair. Of course she was thrilled that Starr had Todd back in her life. Starr had missed her father painfully during his absence. But Blair was less than thrilled that in a few short months Todd had managed to get Starr thrown in jail and was now getting her emotionally invested in a relationship that was never going to happen.

"You all right?" Todd whispered gently in her ear. That was when she realized that she was gripping his hand considerably harder than she'd meant to. She loosened her grasp, intending to pull her hand away entirely, but as she was drawing away, Todd ran one of his fingers along one of hers.

One finger made a lump rise in her throat and a knot untangle in her chest.

Todd's touch felt good. It always had.

His touch was accepting and comforting and exciting and dangerous all at once.

She tried hard to remind herself that when the bottom dropped out (and it always did), she'd feel awful again. It was hard to remember that while Todd was tracing circles on the inside of her wrist.

She looked again at Starr. Starr was watching the movie, radiantly happy to have her family together.

But Starr wouldn't be so content when she realized that her father had gone to all the trouble of chasing her mother when he didn't even want her.

Back when Todd had wanted Blair, he had lied and schemed and threatened and lashed out. He hadn't gone around cuddling her and tossing out innuendos. ("_I don't get any sugar from your bowl?"_ Really?) The last time he had hit on her so blatantly, they hadn't been much more than drinking buddies, and if their first night together had been any indication, he would have had a level-three nervous breakdown if she'd ever said "sure, Todd, let's go upstairs to your room and have some fun."

Blair smiled to herself.

That was the way to send Todd running back to Tea, or wherever it was he wanted to be.

She would call his bluff.

* * *

When the movie was over, Starr and Jack adjourned to their rooms and Blair assigned Todd to the bedroom closest to her own.

In record time, she checked her makeup and hair and threw a bathrobe over her red lace bra and panties- perfect to match her favorite red stilettos. Red was the only way to go tonight.

She knocked on Todd's door.

"Come in," he called.

He was leaning against the bed and staring into- almost through- the mirror. He was still dressed in the clothes he had worn all day.

Blair closed and locked the door. Todd's eyes flickered with curiosity, but he made no comment.

Blair let the silence stretch for a moment. "Do you remember the first Christmas we knew each other?"

"Is that a trick question?" Todd asked, his voice husky. "I told you in the cabin. I remember everything."

"So you remember that I gave you a present."

"That present gave me everything that's good in my life."

"Then you wouldn't mind making it a holiday tradition. This is the time of year for traditions, you know." Blair untied her robe and let it fall to the floor. She planted her feet firmly on either side of Todd's and pulled him into a kiss.

She had expected Todd to bolt from the room in a flustered panic, admitting that he had pursued her to prove his identity but that he really wanted Tea, or someone, or something else.

She hadn't expected him to moan against her mouth, kiss her neck right where it was most sensitive, and roll her onto the bed.

"If you're joking," he whispered against her hair, "it's not very funny."

"Same goes for you," Blair murmured, but she barely got the words out. Todd's lips moved from her neck to her collarbone to the spot just above her bra.

Todd could _kiss_.

If Blair knew one thing about Todd, it was that he would not initiate sex out of anger or manipulation. The last time he'd done that, the cost had been almost unbearably high.

That left only one conclusion: he hadn't been pretending to want her. He _did_ want her. She should have given him another chance to tell her so after Tomas had interrupted her last attempt. _Better late than never_, she decided through a haze of desire.

She caught Todd's chin with her finger and tilted it up so they could look each other in the eye.

"How do you feel about me?" she asked. It was best to be direct so they could go back to doing what they'd been doing as soon as possible.

Todd's jaw tightened under Blair's hand, sending a rush of compassion through her. She almost wished that she hadn't asked and had instead gone about making this man forget- if just for a few moments- his eight years of torture.

* * *

A million thoughts slammed into Todd's mind at once. He'd been trying for months to find the right way to tell Blair how he felt. Now they were alone and she'd given him the perfect opportunity, but his throat was tight, his senses were overwhelmed, and-

"I love you."

There.

He'd said it.

The weird thing was, it was easier than he remembered it being.

"I love you, too, Todd." She slithered underneath him, almost wriggling off the bed, to kiss him on the mouth again.

He'd been hard since she'd taken his hand during the movie. Her unexpected disrobing had enhanced the situation, but the way she was moving underneath him in combination with her tongue flicking across his lips had taken it to a dangerous level.

He had spent eight years imagining this moment. He wasn't going to ruin it by coming in his pants like a horny teenager. He wasn't going to miss reacquainting himself with every inch of Blair's skin.

He stood up. Body parts he hadn't known he had protested the separation from Blair.

Blair herself was looking at him with something almost like a pout.

He took her hand and guided her back to the bed, spreading her out across the middle so he could admire her.

Somehow, she had managed not to age. Somehow, she lived up to the image he had carried in his mind for eight years. Hell, she exceeded it.

"So beautiful," he told her as he dragged their joined hands down her thigh. He squeezed her fingers and then let her hand go so he could remove her shoes. He gave each of her feet a quick kiss. Blair deserved to have her feet kissed.

As if she could read his thoughts, Blair chuckled dubiously.

The best way to appreciate how truly long her legs were was to run his hands and his lips up and down them. Regretfully, he skipped the area covered by the red lace panties (he loved Blair in red) and knelt over her on the bed to caress her stomach and ribcage. He mouthed her breasts through the thin material of her bra, and then returned to the curve of her neck.

He took advantage of the jerk her body gave in response to roll her onto her back. He needed to see and touch the hollow in her neck and the curve of her spine. He patted her scantily-clad bottom and began to slide the panties down her hips.

"Not fair," Blair mumbled into the pillow. "You're still dressed."

"You got to undress me in the cabin," Todd told her. "You had your turn."

In one motion, Blair shifted onto her back and pulled Todd's arms toward her. He allowed himself to be directed, powerless against the promise of her body pressed against his as they lay side by side on the bed. She rolled her hips against his. Whatever blood had been left in his head rushed to a more exotic locale. Through his wave of dizziness, he was only half-aware of Blair divesting him of his shirt and covering his chest with kisses while her hand traced the line of hair that led to the buckle of his belt.

Todd had always loved it when Blair unbuckled his belt. It proved, almost more than any other part of the sex act, that she wanted him. At first he hadn't been comfortable letting her undress him; that had given her too much power. Now he was glad to let her have it.

Her fingers brushed over his groin as she slid his pants and underwear off. His hips rose instinctively off the bed and he bit back a groan. He was too close to climax for the stage of the game. But he liked a challenge. And he liked the view when Blair removed her bra and panties.

Looking was nice, but touching was better. Finally, skin was pressed against skin. Blair's skin was as warm as his own. When he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, he noticed that her forehead felt almost feverish. Her eyes, too, were simultaneously cloudy and bright.

At last, he moved his mouth to her breasts and his hand between her legs. He put one finger inside of her, his ears full of her calling his name, and found that her body was as eager as his, if that were even possible.

* * *

The feeling of Todd's finger inside of her was nearly Blair's undoing. She appreciated that he wanted to see and smell and touch and taste all of her after eight long years. She felt cherished to the very depths of her soul.

She also felt like she might explode from anticipation at any moment.

This was the first time Todd had had sex in almost a decade, and sex was always a complicated thing for him. There was no way that she was going to tell him to cut it out with the foreplay, already, and get to the main event.

But the aching deep inside her was starting to block out all conscious thought. Todd brushed against her as he loomed over her, miming entry without following through. Unable to think or speak, she sank her teeth into his shoulder. She would never be able to get enough of the taste of his skin.

He didn't seem to notice or care; his hands were everywhere at once.

The aching emptiness intensified. She needed him to fill her up.

She let her own hands roam over his broad shoulders and strong back, down to his narrow hips. As soon as she touched his balls, he made a desperate noise and squared himself over her.

They looked each other straight in the eyes, and Blair ran her hand over the scar on his cheek one last time.

He entered her. The exquisite completion alone startled Blair into an unexpected climax.

* * *

Todd almost lost control when Blair closed her eyes as her body clenched and jerked around him. He wasn't going to lose it after one thrust. That would have been worse than coming in his pants.

He began to recite the 1985 Chicago Bears defensive lineup in his head._ Richard Dent; Refrigerator Perry; Steve McMichael; Dan Hampton..._

Blair had planted her feet in the mattress and was moving in perfect time with him. Just as he pushed as deeply as he could into her, she swung her legs above her head and changed the angle completely. His balls slapped hard against her body.

_Dan Hampton... Dan Hampton..._ he couldn't remember any more. _Tomas. Baker. Irene._

The world plunged from heaven to hell in the smallest fraction of a second. His body froze.

"OK?" asked Blair with a world's worth of acceptance and concern.

"Keep going," he told her desperately.

There was a marvelous slick sound as she pulled herself off of him and climbed on top. He got another lovely view of her breasts that banished any unpleasant thoughts.

Each movement was harder. Faster. Sweeter.

For the umpteenth time, he felt himself getting close to _that_ place. Infuriatingly, Blair stopped moving. He thrust up against her impatiently.

"Let go. Come in me," Blair directed. As if reading his mind, she adjusted herself so that she was under him once again, and with one final plunge eight years of hot loneliness pulsed out of his body.

His arms gave way and he collapsed on top of her, not able to open his eyes, not entirely sure that he was conscious.

When he was aware of the world again, Blair was making comforting noises and rubbing circles on his back. He pulled out of her, eliciting a small mewl from deep in her throat. Quickly, he replaced his cock with his hand and touched Blair just where he knew she liked to be touched. He kept his eyes fixed on her face as she came for the second time.

"Sorry," he whispered. "We would have come together if I'd held out a little longer."

"Don't you dare apologize for any of this," Blair hissed, and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Her fingers brushed tenderly over a red mark he didn't remember inflicting on himself.

"What's that from?" he wondered aloud.

Blair looked almost embarrassed, which was something new. Blair was never embarrassed in bed. It was one of the things he adored and admired about her- historically, he had been awkward enough for them both. "I bit you," she admitted.

"On purpose?"

"Not exactly." She snuggled against him and played with his chest hair. His whole body felt like a raw nerve, but Blair's touch soothed rather than aggravated it. "This is all right?"

"Yeah."

They spent a long time kissing and caressing each other. Eventually, Blair disentangled herself and slipped into the bathroom to clean up. Todd was glad that she didn't close the door. He didn't want her out of his sight.

He turned the newly stained quilt down and arranged the pillows on the sheets beneath. Unusually for a lifetime insomniac, he was both sleepy and tired. He knew that he could have a restful, dreamless sleep if Blair was in his arms.

Indeed, when he woke with his usual panicked start, Blair was gone.

* * *

"You didn't think she'd stay, did you?" Irene asked as she lounged in an armchair. The sky outside had cleared while Todd slept, and the room was full of moonlight reflecting off of fresh snow. "She realized what a mistake it was. Maybe she even realized that you're blackmailing Jack, you kidnapped Tomas, and you murdered poor little Sam's father. She's repulsed by you. You having sex with her without telling her everything- it was practically _rape_."

"It wasn't!" Todd snapped angrily. "Get out of here! Leave me alone!"

"Alone. That's how you'll always be, Todd, isn't it?"

"Blair." It would have been a prayer if Todd had believed in praying. As it was, he didn't need Irene to tell him where he was going if there was an afterlife.

"Blair is gone," Irene told him. "She took the children. She couldn't let you hurt Sam."

"I would never hurt Sam," Todd said, more loudly than he'd meant to.

The door opened and Blair returned. "I know you would never hurt Sam," she said.

"I thought you'd gone," said Todd.

"She'll go soon," said Irene.

"What's going on, Todd?" Blair asked. She crawled across the bed to him; Irene took glee in pointing out that he was cowering against the headboard and looked like an idiot. "Who were you talking to? Were you dreaming?"

"Something like that," Todd admitted.

"Who thought that you would hurt Sam?"

"Irene." His mother rose from the chair to give him a ridiculous curtsy, then seated herself again.

Blair followed Todd's gaze. "Do you see her now?" she asked.

"Of course not," Todd lied. "She's dead."

Blair casually stretched herself out next to Todd. To his chagrin, he noticed that she was now wearing pajamas, while he was naked.

"You know," said Blair, "I always promised Victor that I would raise Sam as my own. I promised before we knew who he was or where he was. Victor told me that it would be harder than I thought it was to get past knowing Margaret was his biological mother. It hadn't been that long since Margaret shut me in the trunk of a car… Asa ended up having me locked up and Starr and Jack thought I was dead, did you know that?"

Todd had read about the Margaret saga in the Sun's online archives, but hearing it from Blair was different. He managed to ignore Irene long enough to pull Blair closer. Blair smiled and kissed his cheek.

"But when we finally brought Sam home, Margaret—she'd been dead for probably a year and a half by then— I saw her. I had these visions. It didn't matter that I knew she was dead. She'd taunt me, tell me that I couldn't be a good mother to Sam. That's what I thought when I heard you telling no one that you won't hurt Sam."

"You _saw_ her?"

"It was all in my head. When I stopped worrying, she went away. And Todd," she ran her hand through his hair, "you really don't have to worry about hurting Sam. He loves you. Kids love you. Starr turned out OK, right? So did CJ and Sarah."

Todd's eyes flicked to the chair. Irene was still there.

Again, Blair followed his gaze and eased herself off the bed. She stood over the chair, fearless and confident. "Is she here? Am I looking at her?"

"Yes," Todd admitted.

"Irene," said Blair in her most threatening voice, "After the way I slapped the taste out of your stupid mouth for trying to bring Jack into your crazy little games, do you really think I'd let Sam around someone who would hurt him?"

Irene was silent.

"She have anything to say to that?" Blair asked Todd.

"No. You really slapped her?" Todd loved it when Blair got angry at someone who wasn't him.

"Hard. She was holding her face for the rest of the damn day," said Blair, with more than a little pride. "It was at the reading of Victor's will. Right before she tried to blow us up."

"What did she do to Jack?"

"Invited him to stay with her. Work for her." Blair smiled slightly. "Jack looked at me the same way he did when he was five and he thought there were monsters under his bed. Speaking of Jack, do you happen to know why he's so nice to you all of a sudden?"

Irene clucked condescendingly. Todd made a face at her. Then, emboldened by Blair's admission about Margaret, he gestured that Blair should come back to the bed. "I'm blackmailing Jack into being nice to me."

Blair laughed. "Blackmailing him with what?"

"He tried to burn the Sun down. Called my secretary and told her I'd said to send everyone home, which I hadn't. I had to promote her to keep her from going to McBain."

"Were you going to tell me?"

"I didn't know how. There were so many things I wanted to tell you, and I didn't want to make you leave, and I was so desperate to have an opening with Jack…"

"He needs you. You're the best medicine for him. I told him that tonight, that more than anything he had to stop being blinded by anger and let himself see how much you love him."

"You're not angry?" Todd asked in disbelief.

"A little annoyed that you didn't talk to me as soon as you started doing this, but…" Blair shrugged. "Jack needs unconventional parenting. He needs you. Like Sam does. Like Starr does. Like I do."

Todd nodded. His throat was tight and his eyes were burning. He had everything—his family, Blair in his bed, even understanding about Irene—and he could still lose it all sooner rather than later. Every piece of warmth and acceptance Blair gave him made him feel worse about what he was keeping back—and what would happen when Blair found out.

"Hey," said Blair. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want you to go," Todd said, unconsciously echoing his words from the day she'd saved him from bleeding to death on the floor of Viki's kitschy cabin. He wished he could go back to that day. Sure, he'd been hovering between life and death, but he hadn't kidnapped Tomas and he hadn't known he'd killed Victor. He'd been positive he hadn't killed Victor.

"I'm not going anywhere." Blair looked at the chair behind them. "You hear that, Irene? Not going anywhere. I've got some ideas for where you can go and what you can do with yourself there, though."

To Todd's delight, Irene looked concerned. "I think you're starting to get to her," he told Blair.

"Good! I'll wear her down. I can be very stubborn."

Todd kissed Blair, because he could. "I'd never noticed that about you."

"I know you're kidding, but I'm not sure I noticed it about myself. Not completely. Starr and I were talking the other day about how I don't like to admit to myself that I like… let's call them complicated men. One in particular." She caressed Todd's bare chest. "Every time we get together, there's some secret that almost kills us both. I know that I'm not hiding anything, and I know that something more than Jack and Sam is bothering you. So you can tell me or not, but when I find out I'm not leaving. That's what I agreed to when we got into bed together tonight."

Todd shuddered.

Irene smirked.

"I kidnapped Tomas."

Blair jumped off the bed, eyes blazing.

"Well, that resolution not to leave didn't last too long."

"Did you hurt him?"

"No! No, no, I wouldn't do that to Tea and Dani. Or to you. I didn't want to kidnap him at all, but that day he was in my office and you had gone there to tell him you loved him and he was trying to convince you that I killed Victor—he'd already stolen my life once, and he was going to do it again."

Blair held up her hand. "We'll come back to the kidnapping, but what makes you think I was there to tell him I loved him? I was there to talk to you, to ask you how you felt about me."

Todd growled. "David Vickers told me that you'd run off to tell Tomas how you chose him."

"Because I tell my deepest thoughts to David Vickers?" Blair asked, trying not to choke on her own bile. "Shit, Todd, I'm a little more worried about you believing that than about you seeing visions of your dead mother, to be honest."

"I'll kill him," said Todd. "I'll rip his tongue out of his throat and—"

"I think you have enough hostages to deal with. Where's Tomas?"

"Wyoming."

"And that Skype call?"

"Someone had a gun on him. But the gun was loaded with blanks. I made it very clear that he's not to be harmed. Very clear."

Blair sighed. "So I guess we won't be sledding tomorrow. You want to take the jet to Wyoming, or fly commercial?"

"What?"

"Unless you want to have the police find him first. How reliable are the people you have on him?"

"They better be reliable, for what I paid them."

"You think we'd be safe, going to get Tomas ourselves?"

"What is this _we_?"

"It's something that happened around the time that you pushed me onto the bed and put your tongue down my throat. I might be able to convince Tomas to go easy on you—"

"If Toe gets out, I go to prison."

"Tomas isn't a bad guy. He feels guilty about giving you to Irene eight years ago. He might ask for leniency. He might even say he just lost his phone and got distracted painting for a few weeks or something."

"It's not that. If he gets out, he'll prove I shot Victor. I know I told you I didn't, because I didn't think I had." To Todd's horror, tears welled up in his eyes. "I was sure I hadn't. I knew that I hadn't. And then I had this memory I hadn't had before. And then the gun turned out to be the murder weapon. I don't know—if maybe it's like when you saw red and shot Max, except I blacked out and—" He buried his face in his hands.

"So you really thought you hadn't fired the gun when you gave it to Louie?"

"I was sure I hadn't."

"Did you make Louie disappear when you remembered shooting Victor?"

"No! That was Irene."

"But why would she do that if she knew the gun would prove you shot Victor?"

"I—I don't know. I don't know why she did anything. But I can't go back to prison, Blair."

"I know you can't."

"I barely made it through, I missed everything with Starr and Jack—"

"I won't let it happen again." Blair put her hands on either side of Todd's face. "I won't let it happen. Whether it turns out that you shot Victor or not. And I will not leave you. Does Irene have anything to say about that?"

Todd stole a glance at the chair.

It was just a chair.

Somehow, even through the confused shakiness, he knew that Irene was gone for good. And he knew, just as surely, that he remembered _not_ shooting Victor. He remembered shooting Victor, too, and the memories were completely incompatible.

Of all the weird things that had happened in the brain of Todd Manning in the past 40 years, this was the weirdest. A sob rose up in his throat and he held his breath to keep it down. It seemed like an eternity passed before he heard Blair's voice.

"Todd, you need to take a breath." A pause. "Or don't. I think we'd both really enjoy it if I had to give you mouth to mouth."

He laughed, and the laugh made him take a choking, shuddering breath. "You're still here."

"Yeah," said Blair. "Merry Christmas."

"You always did give the best Christmas presents."

"And don't you forget it."

"I can promise you that there's no chance of that." They settled together the way they always had to enjoy a few hours of peace before they went out to fight the world.

End.

**Disclaimer**: _One Life to Live_ belongs to ABC and Prospect Park, not me. I don't own _Santa's Slay_, either. (Yes, it's real.)

**Note**: This was my first try at OLTL fic, and a precursor to the longer Manning Family Trilogy that can be found on my author page here.


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